If One Day, Maybe Tomorrow
by pammazola
Summary: AU Oneshot. Sesshoumaru begins the long and tedious journey of finding the single most important person in his life. Rated M.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha**

**Warnings: Lemon.**

**~oOo~**

_**If One Day, Maybe Tomorrow**_

**~oOo~**

"Yes, yes dear!" Miroku said, a bit exasperated as he flipped through the disorganized mess on his desk. While his hands were preoccupied, he balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear. _Shoot, where is that paper?_ "Of course, Sango! I'd love to treat you to dinner tonight!" _Onigumo is going to kill me…_ "What's that? A new dress? What happened to the one I bought you last week?" He paused in his searching briefly to listen. "Sango," he grinned slyly into the telephone. "Of course it makes your butt look big, but what's wrong with that? Hello? _Hello?_"

Miroku sighed and hung up. Running a hand through his black bangs, he turned in the leather chair to take in the ruins of his desk. The performance report on his department of the company must be _somewhere_.

The office door opened and a neatly dressed redhead youkai strode in. Miroku wholeheartedly returned her wolfy grin.

"Sire, Onigumo-sama is scheduling a conference for tomorrow morning. Breakfast is on him."

"Excellent," said the violet eyed man, glancing around for his agenda book. "Um, Ayame…"

"I'll text you a reminder," she replied, giving him a wink. "What are secretaries for? _Don't _answer that," she called over her shoulder, walking out. Before he could dwell too much on tomorrow's meeting, Miroku quickly returned to the vast amount of paperwork the boss wanted done and on his desk by ten tonight. Meaning he would be working late. Again. Damn, Sango was going to _kill _him… if Onigumo didn't. Miroku, knowing his fiancée, almost preferred the latter option.

Sengoku Corporation had hit a booming high this year. Meanwhile, their enemy from across town, Takahashi Trademarks, was going belly up. Nearly all the clients within the month were transfers, and the phones were ringing off the hook with new orders. To say that all of this was exciting was an understatement, though Miroku could not help but be curious as to why there was a sudden lack of competition, when the rival company was nearly double their size, with a strict but highly popular family ownership. Now, it appeared they weren't even trying to keep up.

He asked his boss this question over lunch just the day before.

"Ito-san, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Here, take a cigar."

He accepted graciously.

"What luck! I'm telling you, by the end of the year Takahashi will be history!"

"How so?" Miroku pressed, taking a sip from his glass of water.

Onigumo leaned back in his chair. "The CEO is having some issues, by what I hear of it. Seems he cannot balance his personal life with a professional one." He chuckled darkly. "He's literally sitting on top of a gold mine, and he's letting it slip through his fingers like sand!" A smoke ring drifted toward the ceiling. "The fool has given up entirely."

Miroku's brows rose. "What does that mean?"

Now, leaning forward to look over his employee carefully, "He's quitting, _obviously_. Claims he doesn't want the business anymore. Apparently, his younger brother is flying in from the States with his wife and taking over. But he is a moron and will ruin the Takahashi name, that is, if there's anything left of it when he gets here."

While Onigumo laughed, Miroku was concerned. Something terrible must have happened if the CEO was abandoning the corporate empire his family had striven to build for generations, as if it were garbage! His boss was right, Takahashi was a gold mine, and only a fool would walk away from that!

A little after ten, after several poorly constructed phone calls to Sango explaining why he had to cancel on her, he was _finally_ packing up his suitcase. Tomorrow, he would take off, call in sick, and spend the day with Sango in an attempt to make up for tonight. Pulling on his coat, he locked the door behind him, yawning, and then waved goodbye to Ayame, who was still doing her own work. He decided to walk home, since the car was still in the body shop after a nasty accident, but it was a refreshing summer night anyway. His spirits rose. Whistling a merry tune, he continued down the street, glancing occasionally at the displays in the windows, making a mental note of what he might get for his fiancée. Once he stopped outside a dessert bakery. They were cleaning out for the night, and sadly had given away all the leftover pastries before his arrival. He continued on.

Previously, the city streets were hardly occupied by living beings, unless walking was absolutely necessary, so it greatly startled Miroku when the sudden appearance of a man blocked his path. He tried to casually navigate his way around him, only to be intercepted again, quite purposefully.

"Pardon me!" Miroku snapped, a bit agitated, "You know, that's very inconsiderate!"

"_Sir_," the man seethed back, cutting him off abruptly. He stood to his full height, which was impressively much taller than Miroku, or any other Japanese man for that matter. He further shortened the distance between them. The streetlamp, not quite illuminating their surrounds, but gave off enough light that he could clearly see the man's shimmering silver hair, and the amber irises that faintly glowed beneath long bangs. It was easy to determine that he was a youkai, and the expensive, flawlessly black Italian suit he wore made Miroku feel self-consciously under dressed.

"Sir," the voice repeated with a smooth tone. He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulled out a small object. Miroku blinked, astounded at his swift movements.

A photograph was promptly thrust in his face.

"Do you recognize this woman?" It was less a question than a demand. "Answer me. Now."

"Well, excuse me, but _please_ step back and maybe I'll be able to tell you!"

The youkai did not waver, only waited persistently on a reply. Miroku attempted to pluck the picture from his hand, but the stubborn demon's grip only tightened.

Defeated, "No, I've never seen her before in my life."

There was a moment of silence.

"You are certain?"

"Yes, damn it. I don't know her."

More silence.

"Her name is Rin. Do you know of a Rin?"

"_No._" He was getting very annoyed. "What's her last name?"

The photograph vanished inside the youkai's jacket. "Takahashi," he replied. "Rin Takahashi is my wife. She left me two weeks ago."

~oOo~

It took an hour. It was an hour that the two men sat on that hard, wooden bench, talking. In an hour he had learned what happened to Takahashi, why he was walking away from his CEO position, why they were losing clients, and why he now resided on the streets, desperate and hoping… maybe the next person he touched would be _her_.

One day Rin had disappeared into thin air. What Miroku gathered from the youkai's story, the two were very much in love. There was no other logical explanation for her missing except that she was kidnapped, and the youkai was dedicating every second of the rest of his life until she was once again in his arms.

Miroku's heart twisted with pity. "Hey…" he breathed, watching the youkai turn away, his silhouette becoming dimmer and dimmer as the night enveloped him in its warm, sheltering arms. "I… am sorry."

~oOo~

Sesshoumaru Takahashi was alone.

The bed beneath him felt so hard, the blankets cold. He could not remember a time before when he had a bed to himself, without the small, warm body of _her _beside him. It had become so natural, having Rin near.

Everything without her felt empty, very much like this bed. There was so much room, _too much _nothingness. He hated it so.

"Come back to me…"

But when Sesshoumaru finally permitted his eyes to close, suddenly she was with him again. Even without looking he knew it to be her. He could recognize the soft touch of Rin's slender hands shimmering down his chest, so needing of him. And who was he to resist the beckoning of a beautiful female? A sweet calling of his name from her lips was a harmonious chiming of bells, one that is answered by a deep, rumbling of his own need.

The feeling is invigorating, her bare breasts pressed into his palms. His hands can never seem to stop their wandering; from the contours of her swan neck, over peaked rosy blossoms that claws ever so lightly graze, the streamline curves of her body. It was the drifting, floral scent of her arousal that heightened his want, and the coolness of his tongue explored her most secret places, starting from the line of perspiration that settled between the valley of her breasts, over the expanse of a flat stomach (she even giggled at this point, and oh, how his blood began to boil from the ravenous want!). Sesshoumaru would take his time to prepare her, exceedingly patient; busying himself kissing each and every one of the perfect little toes on her feet. Rin was so adorable, he thought, the way she mewled as he suckled the smallest toe, arching her back, spreading herself to him in complete submission. She clutched the fabric of the sheets beneath her with tight white fists, glimmering doe eyes closed in complete concentration, abandoning herself to everything but feel: the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body, and the fire that sparked between them everywhere they touched… Rin quivered; her breath coming in rasps and chokes of air, her fingers released the sheets to dig sharply into the flesh of his back, leaving love scars, wanting to be closer still. Sesshoumaru would always start gently, just for her, but the sounds of her lamb-like bleats swiftly gripped the reins of his self control, and razor claws pinched her hips almost painfully as he pushed himself deeper in, snarling when the ring of her muscles embraced him so exhilarating,_agonizingly_tight. They would come together in an entanglement of limbs, grasping, yearning for the other. Passion is a series of thrusts and arches, whispers of sweet nothings, tender touches, leading to a blissful completion that leaves two lovers breathless, yet no matter the exhaustion there is still that need for _more_...

"Don't ever leave me," he begged, slowing the rolling movements of his hips against hers. "Don't ever leave me again."

And Rin smiled so brilliantly at him, brown eyes sparkling, taking his cheek in the palm of her hand "Maru, I have never left you."

He savored her warmth for a long moment, and kissed her then.

~oOo~

The silver haired man with the dog ears glared viciously at Miroku.

"Is there a particular _reason_ why you're here, other than to snoop around my office?"

Miroku quickly snatched his hand away from the frame with a picture of what he would learn was Kagome Takahashi, round with a child. He blushed furiously.

"I'm not spying on you for Naraku Onigumo," he answered quickly, though the hanyou's glare did not falter. "I came here for myself. I want some answers from Inuyasha-san. You would be him, ne?"

"Inuyasha-_sama_." This guy was definitely a hot head, but he _was _now the sole owner of Takahashi Trademarks. Miroku bowed respectfully.

"What do you want from me? I'm very busy getting settled. I left my entire life to fly across the world. I'm honestly not in the mood for any visitors."

"I assure you Inuyasha-sama; this is of the upmost importance! But we might be here awhile, so I will make myself comfortable." Miroku sat in chair opposite the hanyou's large cherry wood desk. Inuyasha crossed his arms, scowling. "I'm here today concerning your brother, Sesshoumaru." Miroku smiled uneasily. "I can tell you two are related."

"_Yeah?_" One of his silver brows arched. "And?"

"Well…" His violet eyes drop to the floor. "I met Sesshoumaru just a few days before, and he told me about - about Rin."

Suddenly he had the hanyou's full attention. Inuyasha leaned forward in his chair, elbows planted firmly on the desk. All hostility had vanished from his face.

"Rin?" was all he asked.

Miroku nodded. "As you are aware, she has been missing for a very long time. Your brother was roaming the streets the other night, and has - I suspect - every night since. He's looking for her, but there have been no leads. It's as if she has disappeared off the face of the Earth!"

Inuyasha stared at him a while longer, golden eyes so intimidating, scrutinizing Miroku felt like an insect beneath a microscope. After a few moments, the hanyou's mouth curled into a snarl, and he pulled back, seemingly disgusted.

"How dare you talk to him about Rin. What have you done?"

He became very confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"Damn it, you've brainwashed him! He's unstable, you fool!" the hanyou spat, rising swiftly from his chair, ready to strangle the human before him. Before he could navigate around the desk, he changed his mind, instead smashing a small figurine that was a welcoming gift from a neighbor.

"This is news to me!" Miroku insisted, standing as well. "He's unstable? As in… mentally ill?"

"_DUH_, what else does unstable mean?" Inuyasha backed away from him, untrusting of himself not to harm the human. It would not due to be arrested his first week back in Japan. "Rin is missing… HA! How'd he come up with that one?" He glanced out the wide office windows. Raindrops dotted his view of the Tokyo cityscape. Though nothing was heard, jagged lightening streaked across the sky.

"Then who is Rin?" Miroku asked, exasperated. "Is she not real?" He was beginning to feel very foolish to have come here. How could he have believed Sesshoumaru?

"She _was_," Inuyasha murmured, unclenching his fists. "Rin died two weeks ago of melanoma skin cancer."

~oOo~

On that same rainy morning, Sesshoumaru awoke with a smile on his face, the first time he had allowed himself in nearly two weeks.

He just had the most wonderful dream. He had made love to Rin, and she promised to stay with him forever.

Of course, he knew it was only a wistful figment of his imagination, but it gave him hope. He had the feeling that one day soon, Rin would return to him, to the place where she belonged.

Maybe even tomorrow.

~oOo~

_End_


End file.
